Page 82 of The Comeback Summer

Another sharp burst of heat, low in my belly. I remember my surprise when he first headed downward on my body, how I told him I wasn’t sure I was going to like it. He said he would stop at any time, but he wanted to try. I was nervous and it seemed to take a while, but when I came, it wasamazing. I was speechless for fifteen minutes.

“I’m embarrassed to say I never googled any moves to try on you,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice light. “Was I a disappointment?”

“Never.”

He takes my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. My heart stutters to a stop. It feels so right, like our hands were designed to fit together.

“We were good together,” I say softly, “weren’t we? Sometimes, I wonder if I’m seeing the memories through rose-colored glasses. But it was really good, wasn’t it?”

“You’re the best I’ve ever had,” he says. “And I don’t just mean... physically. I mean you’re the best conversation, the best companionship, the best friend and lover. It’s why I never got over you. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

I blink.Love.I’m not sure what to do with that. The present tense. But I feel it, too; like the love wasn’t lost, just put in storage for a while. Now we’ve unboxed it, dusted it off, and it’s as bright and beautiful as ever.

Lou’s words at our last check-in float through my mind:There are no hypotheticals in life. Just facts. But then we attach emotions to those facts. That’s what complicates things.

I think I understand now. The fact is, I love Josh. I always have. So, why am I letting my emotions—my fears—complicate things? Trusting him again, even though there are no guarantees that we’ll work out, feels like the bravest thing I could ever do.

There’s no way I can put all that into words. So instead, I lean in and kiss him.

Our kiss in the shower was desperate, heated, like we were afraid it could end at any moment. This kiss is slow and languid, like we have all the time in the world, and I suppose we do, bobbing in the middle of the lake with no one else around. His lips are warm and welcoming, and I close my eyes and follow his lead.

He may have googled how to do this years ago, but his movements now are born of experience, because Josh still knows exactly how to kiss me. Light presses of his lips against mine, just a hint of tongue. Heat crawls up my spine and curls into the center of me.

“I missed your hair,” I murmur, running my hands through the soft waves. “You have such nice hair.”

He hums. “I missed your hands in my hair.”

Our kiss takes on a heavier rhythm, and his teeth scrape against my bottom lip. Shivers run down my body, and I let out a quiet groan.

“I missedthat,” he says. “That sound you make when you like something.”

“You’re the only person who’s ever heard it.”

He grins against my lips. “Does it make me a jealous bastard that I’m fucking thrilled to hear that?”

He pulls me into his lap sideways, my feet dangling off one side, my chest against his, my back pressed against the railing. He kisses me deeper, his hand cupping my jaw, which is something I always loved.

“I missed your mouth,” I whisper. “So much, Josh. You have no idea.”

“I do have some idea.” His hand slides down until it’s wrapped around my throat, a possessive gesture that makes my body pulse with need. This is a new side of Josh, blatantly masculine, taking what he wants, and I love it. My eyes roll back in my head as he tilts my chin up so he can kiss the other side of my neck, moving upward toward my ear, sucking on my earlobe and making me gasp.

His other hand drifts inside my cover-up to the bare skin at my waist, and he feels so rough and warm that I might spontaneously combust.

“I love the way every part of you fits perfectly in my hand,” he murmurs.

And he shows me, palming my ass, my waist, up to my breast. I arch against him, wanting more. Wanting to be closer. Impulsively, I shift my weight and swing one leg over his lapso I’m straddling him. He’s hard beneath me, and his breath hitches as I settle against him. The railing presses painfully against my back but I don’t care; nothing could drag me from this moment. Still kissing him, I slide my hands under his shirt and run them up the long, taut lines of his torso. He takes a shuddering breath.

“I love the way you breathe when you’re getting turned on,” I say.

He gives a pained laugh. “Gettingturned on? I’m trying to hold myself back.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t... what?”

“Don’t hold back.”

He pulls away, just enough so he can catch my eye. “You know I’ll wait as long as you need, right? I’ll go slow. I’ll be careful. I’ll—”

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